


Sunsets and Cigarettes

by drarrymehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, One Shot, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24128251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarrymehome/pseuds/drarrymehome
Summary: Draco doesn't know why he agreed to go to the flat party, Potter manages to find him anyway.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112





	Sunsets and Cigarettes

Draco leans over the balcony of the top floor flat. It’s a muggy night in the height of summer, not a hint of a breeze anywhere. The sun is still clinging to the sky, unwilling to be dragged below the horizon even though it’s already gone ten. The birdsong is dying off for the day, but some of the stragglers are desperately chirping away until they can’t anymore. He looks out over the peaceful canal; it’s sparkling against the smoky orange and dusky pink-streaked sky. There’s a party raging in the flat behind him, but he has stepped outside for some space to breathe.

He thinks maybe he shouldn’t have come here. It’s a typical halls party – freshers are going hell for leather with the drink before their first lectures start, although he knows many of them won’t stop partying even when they do. He doesn’t know anyone here except the guy who invited him; he deferred his university entry a year because he didn’t feel ready yet. It’s too packed in there. The problem with halls is that the walls are so paper thin it’s impossible to throw a party without the other flats in the block joining in. Then those students invite their friends in other blocks, and they bring their flatmates and so on and so forth. The six-bed flat is now packed with at least fifty people, the air so dense it’s hard to breathe. Or at least, it is for Draco.

The balcony door opens behind him, but he doesn’t turn around. People come and go every few minutes, coming out to have an important conversation that can’t be heard over the thump of the music or to have a quick cigarette. Most of them don’t bother him, they just act as if he’s not there.

“You shouldn’t do that you know. Terrible habit.” This time his companion walks to the edge of the balcony where Draco stands and leans over the edge. He knows the voice, but part of him is too scared to look. It’s been so long. Instead he glances down at the cigarette slowly burning down in his left hand. He’s not a regular smoker by any means, but alcohol generally makes him do stupid things.

He watches the ash drop from the end for a moment before turning towards Potter. He looks directly into his bright green eye; eyes that he hasn’t seen for nearly four years. They haven’t changed at all. He keeps eye contact as he brings the straight to his lips, takes a long drag, and blows the smoke out slowly, as if challenging Potter to stop him. Potter doesn’t move.

“You never did do anything I told you to,” he says with a lopsided sort of smile. His skin glows a warm shade of brown against the glow of the orange sky. It looks as if he’s been kissed by good fortune. In Draco’s more generous moments he thinks Potter probably deserves it, but he would never admit it aloud.

“What are you doing here Potter?” Draco forces himself to turn away, looking back out across the canal. Potter was always beautiful, that much hasn’t changed. He doesn’t want to stare too long because it will only make it harder to let him go again, and Potter always goes. Possibly he should find it surprising that they’ve found each other here, at a flat party in freshers’ week at a university in the Midlands. Draco presumed coming here would mean surrounding himself with strangers, but apparently no force on earth can keep the two of them apart. This is probably what they mean when they talk about soulmates, although Draco doesn’t really believe they exist.

“I came to say hi,” Potter tells him. Draco doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. It’s so muggy that his shirt is sticking to his back and making him uncomfortable. He’s spent most of his life trying to act like he doesn’t care what Potter thinks but he finds himself hoping he can’t see how disgusting Draco is right now. He’s had too much wine already and it’s still early by university standards.

“Well, hi. You can go now,” he says dismissively. He prays to hear Potter’s footsteps retreating back to the party but there’s no thump of his heathen footsteps and Draco can still sense him there. Far enough away that he can’t actually feel him but close enough that he knows he’s there.

“Don’t be like that Draco.” There’s a weariness in Potter’s voice and Draco thinks perhaps he’s as tired of this game as Draco is. He’s done chasing Potter; he would rather he make a choice and stick with it. Preferably, he’d leave Draco well alone. Hearing his name from Potter’s lips again sends a shiver down his spine and this time he can’t pretend it’s the wind.

He lifts his cigarette to his mouth and takes another drag. Potter has distracted him enough that it’s almost burnt down to the filter, but he knows that’s probably for the best anyway.

“Don’t be like what?” He snaps. His body tenses when Potter steps closer. One minute there’s a faint brush of their arms and the next Potter’s hand is under Draco’s chin, gently turning his head so he’s forced to look at him. Up close Potter’s eyes are even more breathtaking and it almost breaks him. The cigarette falls from his hand which still rests over the railing. He imagines it floating to the ground with a spray of orange sparks just so he doesn’t have to think about how close their bodies are.

There’s a clatter as a couple of girls stumble out onto the balcony. He can tell by their raucous giggling that they’re very drunk, but he doesn’t turn away from Potter to look. They see the two of them standing just inches apart and start blabbering apologies and giggling some more. It could have ruined the atmosphere, but Potter’s eyes are practically blazing green and Draco has never seen him look more determined.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me here. This has gone on long enough.” He says when the girls have retreated back inside. The _this_ sends a sudden thrill through him.

“We were never even friends,” Draco says in a whisper. He doesn’t know why he says it – it’s not remotely relevant. Potter smirks at him, the right side of his mouth lifting just enough to flash a small amount of shiny white teeth. Draco’s knees go weak.

“I don’t want to be your friend Draco, I thought that much was clear.” And then they’re kissing. It’s slow and it’s sweet and Potter doesn’t seem to care that Draco must taste like an ashtray. There’s a hand in his hair and one snaking around his waist, pulling him flush against a warm body as their lips meet again and again. Draco’s hands are gripping the thin cotton of Potter’s shirt although he doesn’t remember moving them. They could have stood there for minutes, hours, days, and Draco would have been none the wiser, but eventually he pulls away. Instantly he mourns the intimacy.

“It’s about damn time, Harry.”

It doesn’t occur to Draco to ask Harry how he found him; he finds he doesn’t really care.


End file.
